Page 53

“Ares will be marrying Santino Mancini’s youngest daughter, Giana.”

At first, I don't react. Not outwardly, at least. Inside, it feels as though the air has been violently sucked out of my lungs and replaced with something sharp and jagged.

I heard him, every syllable hit my ears, but my mind refuses to process it, like a stubborn child unwilling to accept the truth.

The name clangs around inside my skull, resonating like a bell I can't unring.

I blink once, then again, as if the simple act of closing and opening my eyes might reset the world around me.

But nothing changes. The sky remains an impossibly vibrant blue, almost mocking in its cheerfulness.

The table sits in pristine perfection, a stark contrast to the chaos inside me.

Ares remains seated, calm and composed, as if the ground hasn’t just been ripped out from beneath my feet.

He doesn’t glance my way, doesn’t shake his head or utter a word.

He just stares into his coffee like maybe if he looks hard enough, he’ll find a way out of this.

Like he’s as stunned as I am, but still.

.. he says nothing . And it hurts. Fuck, it hurts in a way I never anticipated, a deep ache that I didn't see coming.

I force my spine to straighten, gripping the edge of my chair with white-knuckled determination to keep my hands from trembling.

Next to me, Bianca lets out a soft gasp, leaning in to whisper something I can't seem to comprehend.

On my other side, Matteo stiffens, his posture rigid, but I can't bring myself to turn towards him .

All I can do is watch Ares.

He doesn’t look at me.

Doesn’t shake his head. Doesn’t speak.

He just sits there, quiet. Impossibly still.

Like he’s already accepted his fate.

And I don’t understand why.

My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out the sound of chairs shifting and glasses clinking, and all I can think is, why isn’t he saying anything?

Why isn’t he reacting? Why isn’t he standing up, slamming his fist down, calling it what it is, insane, wrong, impossible ?

Why isn’t he looking at his father and telling him no ?

Why is he just... sitting there ?

Like, this is all normal and was always going to happen. Like what happened between us last night or this morning meant nothing.

Like I …mean nothing.

My heart is pounding so hard I’m afraid they can hear it. Every instinct is screaming to run, to flee the table, the garden, but I stay still. Frozen in time, my limbs refuse to move. Damn it, wasn’t he the one who whispered… you’re mine.

I keep watching him. Waiting for him to fight— but he doesn’t.

He just continues to stare into his coffee, his jaw like granite and throbbing.

And in that moment, I don’t know if I want to cry, or scream, or reach across the table and shake him until he remembers I’m right here, that he’s mine.

But I do none of those things.

Instead, I sit silent, my hands trembling against the table’s edge, clutching the moment like a fragile thread threatening to snap.

I stay seated because standing up would draw too much attention, be too dramatic. I won't give anyone, especially him, the satisfaction of seeing me unravel. So I sit, my back straight, my expression neutral, though every part of me is screaming to escape.

Under the table, my leg begins to bounce, softly at first, a rhythm only I can feel. Then it grows quicker, more urgent as the minutes go by, as if staying still will cause me to explode. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, and dig my nails into my palms, leaving tiny crescent marks.

Bianca casts a worried glance my way. I force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes and quickly avert my gaze. If she so much as asks if I’m alright, I might shatter right here in front of everyone.

How can something as natural as breathing feel impossible?

Yet it does. I feel like I’m suffocating.

I can’t keep pretending to be okay. So, I do the only thing I can.

I grip the chair and push it back. The sharp scrape of the legs against the tiled floor slices through the quiet hum of conversation like a warning shot.

That’s when he finally looks at me. Ares lifts his head. At last. Our eyes meet across the table, and for a split second, the entire world narrows down to just this.

Just him and me.

And everything neither of us can say.

I don’t look away.

Not this time.

Instead, I steady my voice, lean in just slightly, and say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. “Congratulations.” It’s not a blessing. It’s a blade. And I hope it cuts him as deeply as his engagement has cut me.

“Uh, please, excuse me. I’ve consumed too many pastries this morning.

I’m going to go for a walk.” I lie with a forced smile, loud enough for everyone to hear.

I don’t know if anyone believes me, because the pastry on my plate remains untouched, and I honestly don’t care whether they believe it or not.

I turn and walk away, and I don’t look back.

I make it around the corner before the tears fall. Silent, hot and relentless. I swipe at them furiously, but they just keep falling, streaming down my cheeks as I put one foot in front of the other, trying to hold myself together long enough to find someplace I can be alone .

I don’t hear the footsteps until I hear Bianca’s voice cut through the air behind me.

“Jordyn.”

I freeze. Close my eyes and try to breathe through the growing ache in my chest. “Don’t,” I whisper, my voice raw and shaking. “Not now.”

But she’s already there, hand gripping arm, and spinning me around to face her. “Look at me.” Her hand moves up from my arm to my face, and she turns my face so I’m looking at her. I blink away the tears, but it’s too late. “Oh God, you have feelings for him, don’t you?”

Her voice is low and accusing, like the truth is something dirty.

I blink at her, caught off guard.

“I don’t?—”

“Yes, you do.” Her eyes are wide, frantic. “You have feelings for Ares.”

I shake my head, but it’s useless. The lie won’t stick. Bianca sees right through me.

“Bianca, please?—”

“No, Jordyn. You need to listen to me.” Her voice drops. “Because you were right. About everything. About them .” I stare at her, breath caught in my chest.

“The Russos,” she says, her voice trembling as she looks around to make sure we’re really alone. “They’re Mafia, Jordyn.”

The word lands like a hard slap. “No.” My chest tightens. “That’s not?—”

“I overheard them, Jordyn. Enzo and Luciano, last night.” Her voice cracks, but she pushes on.

“They were talking about weapon and drug shipments. And then...they started talking about some guy called Alessandro Romano, and I remembered his name because he was on the news not that long ago.” She continues, her voice shaking.

“He was the guy who was found hanging by his intestines in the centre of Messina, you remember? You even said what kind of a twisted monster would do such a thing?”

I nod mutely, my chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths. Everything around me feels like it’s tilting, like the ground isn’t solid anymore, and I can fall through it at any second.

Bianca steps in closer, her hands coming up to gently cradle my face.

I blink at her through a sheen of tears. “Jord, it was Ares,” she whispers. “He’s the one who did that.”

The world blurs.

I shake my head, not because I don’t believe her, but because I do.

Because deep down, some part of me already knew he was capable of something like that. I saw it in his eyes the night he threatened Nicolai at Eden. I felt it in the way his hands trembled with restraint when I was near.

I just didn’t want to admit it.

Didn’t want to connect the man who looked at me like I was light, with the man who hangs people by their intestines. But now there’s no escaping it.

And what terrifies me more than the truth… is that even knowing it, I still want him. I’m still trying to find an excuse to justify him killing people.

I stagger back a step, but Bianca holds on to me, fierce now, almost desperate.

“There’s more,” she says, and her voice is cracking.

“You need to hear the rest.” I shake my head and try to break away, but she doesn’t let go.

“No, you have to listen to me. It wasn’t just weapons or drugs or killing people, Jordyn.

They were talking about our parents.” My blood runs cold at the mention of our Mum and Dad.

“What?”

“You need to know the truth about Mum and Dad, why they died.”

Every drop of blood in my being stills.

Bianca looks at me, her eyes filling with tears now, too. “Their death wasn’t an accident, Jord.” Her voice breaks. “That day it was Matteo who was supposed to die, not Mum and Dad. Enzo said someone put a hit on Matteo, but missed and hit the wrong car and killed...”

Every drop of air rushes out of my lungs, and I take a step back like her words physically hit me. “No,” I whisper. “No, that can’t be true?—”

“It is, Jordyn.” She grabs my arms, holding me still. “It is. Enzo told me everything. And that’s why you need to stay away from Ares. He’s not just dangerous, Jord. The man is unhinged, and he’s part of this, all of it. ”

But I shake my head, hard. “No, B, stop. You don’t—you don’t know him, all right.”

“Neither do you, Jordyn.” Bianca’s voice cracks, trembling with something close to panic.

“You have no idea what he’s really capable of.

Luciano didn’t raise him to be a man. He raised him to be a weapon .

From the time he could walk, Ares was trained to take orders, to kill without hesitation, to suppress anything that made him human.

Emotions weren’t allowed. Only pain. And love?

” Her voice turns bitter. “Love was weakness.”

She steps closer and swallows thickly. “And when he takes a liking to someone…” Her eyes flicker to mine. “It turns dark, Jordyn. He becomes fixated . Obsessed. Possessive in a way that isn’t romantic, it’s dangerous.”